Frustration
by huehuehuehhuehuheuh
Summary: Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Sex God, is being denied by the entire female population of Hogwarts.  How does Hermione Granger help him with this? RATED M FOR A REASON. Will be longer than a one-shot; R&R! UPDATE: POV fixed in the sixth chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all characters; the plot is my own. This is sort of smut, but there's also a plot brewing. If you like both, read on! (But not if you're under 17...)**

Draco Malfoy was in a pissy mood.

Realistically, it wasn't every day that the Sex God of Slytherin got turned down. For sex. By Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco, I know you're just using me for my body," she had sighed, annoyed, as his lips crept up her neck and his hands attempted to creep up her skirt.

"That's never stopped you before," he had mumbled, smirking.

"Well it's stopping me now!" she had cried. She had jumped up, straightened her skirt, and headed in a huff up the staircase to the Slytherin girls' dormitories. But not before turning around and screeching, "MAN SLAG!"

Draco had only laughed then, believing that it was just a phase and that she would be back in his bed by that night. In the meantime, he had gone off to find another suitable conquest to fulfill his current needs.

But it turned out that the girls who hadn't heard Pansy's shrill proclamation had been informed of it. Draco had assumed that all his lays knew what they were getting into when they got in his bed. He wasn't looking for anything other than a good fuck. But silly women had to be all concerned about intimacy and emotions and that crap.

So, when he asked Daphne Greengrass if she was up for a little romp, she had cringed and shot back, "Yeah, with a man who will treat me right," getting up and leaving her table in the library. What gives?

Millicent Bulstrode had responded, "I know what you're up to, Draco. I've made that mistake before and I'm not going to do so again."

Tracey Davis had shuddered as he lightly nipped her earlobe; she then used every ounce of willpower in her delicious little body to deny him and call him a "serial shagger."

_This didn't bother any of them before! _he thought as he paced his dormitory. _Women are supposed to worship me! They KNOW what I can do for them!_

Indeed, while in bed Draco was so focused on the woman's pleasure that she usually got fooled into thinking he cared for her. Nope. He just wanted her to be enticed to come back for a repeat performance.

While Draco was deep in his thoughts, the door to the room opened and in stepped Blaise Zabini, Draco's best friend and infallible wingman. He had on a silky maroon dress shirt and khakis, and reeked of the cologne that he knew drove women wild.

"Hot date tonight?" Draco asked bitterly.

"Yeah, Greengrass," Blaise responded absently, looking at himself in the full-length mirror and sweeping an errant hair behind his ear. His hair was long, not quite to his shoulders, silky, and dark. It perfectly complemented his dark olive complexion, which, oddly enough, seemed to glisten when Draco looked at it.

"Two questions. One, which Greengrass? Two, are you wearing BODY OIL?" asked Draco, flopping on his bed. It was a Saturday, a FUCKING SATURDAY, and it was shaping up to be a night in with his own right hand.

"Astoria. And yes. Can you tell?" asked Zabini, looking up and smirking. He unbuttoned one more button on his dress shirt so one could see the beginnings of his appealing pectorals.

Draco snorted. "I swear, Zabini…"

"Hey, it helps me get the ladies," said Blaise, putting his hands up. "What about you? Getting into Pansy's knickers again tonight?"

"Negative," Draco sighed. "She called me a man slag."

"Well, you are…"

"Shove it, Blaise. It seems like most of the female population of Hogwarts has suddenly realized something that's been going on for years. I don't think I'm getting any tonight."

Blaise let out a low whistle. "I told you that you had to be more subtle about that, man. Girls will tolerate it only up to a certain point."

"They still tolerate you!" growled Draco, frustrated. "And you sleep around just as much as I do!"

"I tone down the arrogance when I'm around them," Blaise smirked. "Anyway, this'll all blow over soon, mate. Now, I'm off to eat out."

"What restaurant are you going to this time?"

"Her room," said Blaise, waggling his eyebrows at the double entendre. Draco groaned and threw a shoe at him as he ducked out of the room.

So, it was almost midnight on a Saturday, and Draco was wandering the halls of Hogwarts under a Disillusionment Charm. He was that bored. Wanking had lost its appeal after the second time, as his lubed-up hand was no substitute for a tight pussy.

He had already passed three snogging couples hidden in alcoves, one of said couples containing Pansy Parkinson. He clenched his fists with jealousy; he didn't specifically want Pansy, but the fact that she had turned him down for _Theodore Nott _just made his blood boil and bile rise in his throat.

He made his way to the library absentmindedly, considering thumbing through one of the sex manuals in the Restricted Section. What had his life come to? He shook his head and headed towards the gates that marked the entrance to the Restricted Section. He soundlessly opened them, slipped in, and closed them behind him.

Draco was making his way to the back of the Section – where all the sex books were kept – when he heard a low, distinct, telling, _female_ moan. His ears immediately perked up, and so did his neglected cock.

He moved closer to the source of the sound, careful not to make any noise even though he doubted the party (or parties) in question would hear him. As he approached, the sound of skin slapping on skin became audible, meaning that there were definitely two people involved.

"Oh, _fuck_, Her – Her – mione…"

Draco's jaw fell open in shock and he nearly tripped over his own two feet. GRANGER was getting some and he WASN'T? This was the lowest he had ever been. He considered just disgustedly turning away, walking back to his own dorm, and going to bed, but then curiosity overcame him.

His curiosity grew stronger when he heard Granger moan, "Mmm, yes Ron, that's it, I want more of you in me… harder… fuck, HARDER! YES!"

Draco smirked. Weaselbee? Probably couldn't please a woman if his life depended on it, yet Granger seemed to be enjoying herself. _She _probably didn't know what a real man could do for her. He growled softly, low in his throat, and cleared the final bookshelf to watch them.

Weasley had Granger bent over one of the oak study tables, her school skirt flipped up as he pounded into her from behind. Both of their shirts were off; the muscles in his back rippled from exertion while her tits swung deliciously, brushing the desk with each of his thrusts. Draco felt himself grow hard watching her, but didn't actually relieve himself. He wasn't some nasty voyeur.

Granger turned her head to look at Weasley through lidded eyes, her hair (did it used to be frizzy? Something had changed) flipped over her shoulder, a light sheen of sweat coating her bare back. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly as she let out another moan, and Weasley growled and pulled on her hair, yanking her hair back as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

Granger brought one of her hands under herself to rub her clit just over the place where Weasley's cock was disappearing inside her. After a few rubs, she screamed, throwing her head back even more, and he shuddered. After a few more frantic pumps, he breathed, "Hermione," and threw his head back, holding himself inside her as he emptied his seed. He had a death grip on her hips.

Draco was insanely jealous. He told himself it was just because they were fucking and he wasn't, but something inside him told him he was actually jealous _of Ron._ But that wouldn't make any sense. Sure, the mudblood had gorgeous tits, a delicious round ass, and one of the sweetest-looking pussies he had ever seen… but that didn't change the fact that her blood was dirty, and it would dirty him if he tried to fuck her. He wondered if the two of them were a couple. He smirked thinking of Weaselbee walking in on Draco fucking his Granger, then immediately erased those thoughts from his head, as they made his cock twitch painfully in his trousers.

He bolted back to his dormitory and had a great wank, a better one than he had had in a long time, and drifted off to sleep.

Draco couldn't fall asleep, staring at the top of his four-poster bed. His thoughts were consumed with trying to get back in favor with the ladies of Hogwarts. He heard the door open and close, assumed it was Blaise, and went on thinking.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth encase his cock, and with a yelp of surprise looked down to see Granger sucking on his prick, looking up at him with big, seductive eyes. She flawlessly deep-throated all nine and a half inches of him, causing him to grip the bed sheets and shut his eyes tightly, not used to quite this level of pleasure.

"Granger…" he choked out when she took a break, instead wrapping her hand around him and pumping him with long, quick strokes, "…what are you doing?"

"I could tell you," she murmured, her voice low and husky with arousal, "or I could put my mouth to better use…"

Draco groaned and thrusted into her hand, desperate for more of her wonderful mouth. "Suck my cock, pleeease…" he was surprised to hear himself say. Malfoys _never_ begged.

"My pleasure," she purred, wrapping her lips back around his straining member. She applied suction each time she pulled back, like she was trying to pull his orgasm out of him. He cried out in pleasure; best blow he'd ever had, hands down.

He was close to coming when she stopped. "Shit shit shit no…" he moaned. He tried to push her head back down to his cock, but she climbed up his body and instead latched her mouth onto his left nipple. At the same time, she impaled herself on his throbbing prick and let out a shrill moan around his nipple.

"Aw, _fuck_, Granger," Draco babbled. "You're so FUCKING tight…" Then he remembered he was supposed to be the Sex God of Slytherin (or, one could argue, all of Hogwarts), so he grabbed her hips and started pumping upwards, meeting her thrusts and pushing himself deeper inside of her.

"Ooooohh, yes…" moaned Granger, head thrown back, gorgeous curls cascading onto his chest. "Fuck me ragged, Malfoy!"

"That can be arranged, my dear," growled Draco. He flipped them over so that he was on top and started pounding into her with animalistic force.

Her words degenerated into a series of continuous moans. He didn't think he had ever felt so good in his life… he never wanted to leave her sweet pussy…

"Oh, FUCK, fuck me… I'm gonna come…" babbled Granger.

"Yes you are, Granger… come for me," Draco growled into her ear. He was so close.

"Draco!" she panted, like a mantra. "Draco! Draco!" her voice grew lower with each shout of his name. Unnaturally low, even. It was like a man's voice.

"Draco!"

Blaise was standing over him. Draco rubbed his eyes. He looked around. He was still in his four-poster bed, in the exact same room where he and Granger had just… wait a second….

"DAMMIT BLAISE!" snarled Draco.

"What? It was time to get up!" shrugged Zabini.

"Yes, much obliged," said Draco sarcastically, whisking himself into the bathroom and slamming the door. He had one serious case of morningwood to take care of, not to mention the fact that he had been so turned on by GRANGER… what the fuck was wrong with him?


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger was in a pissy mood.

If every man she slept with insisted on keeping her knickers as a souvenir, she'd have to owl home for more before the end of term! And Merlin knows that would raise some questions with her parents.

Ron _had_ said he'd loved her in red; well, if he wanted to continue seeing her in his favorite red lace knickers, perhaps he should reconsider pocketing them for himself.

Hermione sighed and looked at her naked body in the mirror. The full-length mirror reflected a young woman with curly brown hair (that, mind you, she went to hell and back to tame every morning), almond-shaped brown eyes, full lips, round C-cup breasts, a toned stomach, a neat V of brown curls at the junction between her legs, firm thighs, and shapely calves. A voice in the back of her head told her that her body was beautiful and for this reason she ought to give it more respect, but she pushed that thought away.

Hermione had lost her virginity her fourth year to Viktor Krum the night of the Yule Ball. After her tearful spat with Ron, he had put his arms around her and kissed her cheek to comfort her. It had quickly escalated into something more heated.

As she thought back on it, remembering Viktor's broad shoulders shaking as he'd gently pushed himself inside her for the first time, Hermione realized that she was lucky to have had such a good first-time experience. She hadn't bled, there hadn't been a lot of pain, and Viktor had actually managed to bring her to orgasm before succumbing to his own need for release. She smiled to herself, marveling at how he had managed to introduce her to the world of carnal pleasures without her becoming needy and attached to him.

After Hermione had discovered this world, she had wanted to experience and explore it incessantly. Harry and Ron had both lost their virginities to her (not at the same time, although they did indulge in the occasional threesome after having too much to drink or too much of a dry spell). And then Harry had taken this new knowledge off with him to please Ginny; Ron, meanwhile, sought to impress Lavender Brown with his newly acquired skills. Hermione hadn't minded this at all, as she was close to the two boys but had no intention of taking things further than friends (with occasional wonderful benefits).

It had turned out, however, that Seamus Finnegan was having trouble thinking of ways to get creative in bed; he had expressed this one night to his dormmates, and Ron had very seriously suggested that he "consult" (whatever exactly that entailed) Hermione. Word had spread – the Gryffindors were not disgusted with Hermione's sexual freedom, but rather sought to inform others of Hermione's amazing ability to educate men in the bedroom. They would come to her with a problem, she would fix it – mind you, this usually involved more than one round of mind-numbingly hot shagging – and they could then make other women happy. Hermione became a champion figure for the women of Gryffindor (hell, for the women of all but Slytherin), ensuring that each man could skillfully attend to a woman's every sexual need.

It was for this reason that Ginny had affectionately dubbed her "Ho-mione," and it was for this reason that every guy she slept with wanted to keep her knickers as a souvenir. She was legendary in the bedroom.

Hermione sighed and slipped into a pair of white lace boyshorts before pulling on an impossibly short black mini-skirt. "Easy access" was essential for her conquest this morning: Dean Thomas, legendary for the size of his prick. However, he had informed Hermione that two of his most recent "hook-ups" (Muggle-to-Muggle, they understood each other's lingo) had been "unsatisfied with the quality of his oral sex administration." She giggled, remembering the impossibly formal and awkward way he had stated it. However, she was more than happy to indulge Dean's desire for improvement. She finished getting dressed and walked out of her bedroom for a breakfast romp. Dean had said the school would be the least crowded, but she still longed for a bite or two of a piping hot pumpkin scone.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy bit into a pumpkin scone at breakfast that morning and almost moaned out loud at how delicious it was. _Someone's trained those kitchen elves well_, he thought to himself.

"I am _dreading_ Quidditch practice today, mate," complained Blaise from his left. "How come you had to call it on a Sunday? Not that I'm questioning the Captain's orders, or anything, but…"

Draco punched Zabini lightly on the shoulder. "You know as well as I do that the team this year has the potential to turn into a pile of rubbish if I don't work them hard."

"I'm affronted," Zabini said jokingly, placing a hand over his heart. "I'm quite proud of my Keeper skills, actually –"

"I know, I know," Draco cut him off, rolling his eyes. "But even if you manage to block every Quaffle that sails your way, we still aren't going to win if our Chasers can't score any points. And the Beaters can't protect us if their brooms won't leave the ground. Fat lot of lards," he grumbled.

Blaise chuckled. "Good to know you have such faith in them. You better have one hell of a pep talk in store for today."

Draco started. _Shit!_ "Aw, bugger, I do, it's all written up on some parchment, but I left it in the dorm. I'll meet you on the field," he said, picking up another scone and shoving it into his mouth in one piece. "I wun be lah," he attempted to communicate around the scone, spewing crumbs everywhere and exiting the Great Hall at a brisk walk.

He moved quickly and purposefully, smart shoes echoing in the cavernous, empty hallways. He made his way down to the dungeons, moving past the potions classroom. It smelled like Snape had killed twenty skunks, put them in a pile, poured coffee on them, and then set the lot of them on fire. Draco gagged and kept walking.

Draco was almost to the Slytherin common room when he heard an extremely loud gasp – well, as loud as a gasp could be. He whirled around, ready to hex whoever was following him, but found the hallway to be deserted except for himself. Draco shrugged and was about to continue when a moan very similar to the one he had heard last night pierced the silence. He smirked to himself, ready to catch Granger and Weaselbee at it again, and performed a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He then moved toward the source of the noise, a large green and silver tapestry. He chanced a glance behind it.

Through the gap between the tapestry and the wall, Draco could see that Granger and another, unidentified male were concealed behind it. It was a cozy little indent in the wall, frequented by Slytherins for snogging, shagging, and all other manners of tomfoolery. How in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle did Granger end up here?

Draco's thoughts immediately leapt to the conclusion that she was with a Slytherin, but he recognized the other party as Dean Thomas, Gryffindork extraordinaire (and a fellow mudblood of Granger's). Regardless of how they got there or why they chose that particular spot to engage in their current activities, the fact remained that they were there, and Draco felt obligated to watch them.

Thomas had his face buried between Granger's legs; her black skirt was pushed up around her waist and a scrap of white lace that Draco assumed to be her panties lay on the floor beside them. Her hands were alternately caressing and pulling on his short black hair. Granger's facial expressions were ranging from confusion to concentration to consternation as Draco watched, and he smirked to himself when realizing that Thomas evidently wasn't particularly skilled in the pussy-eating department. Draco, on the other hand, prided himself on the ability to make a witch melt with his talented tongue.

Suddenly, though, Hermione cried out "Oh yes! Yes! Mmm, keep doing that, don't stop that… never stop… oh Dean, you're getting soo much – AH! – better at this…"

Draco raised an eyebrow. Encouragement was always appreciated, but Granger was sort of acting like a teacher. Stupid bossy know-it-all, probably thought that every man had something to learn. He was struck by a sudden and inexplicable urge to show her that, indeed, a man did exist who knew how to perfectly please her, to whom education was superfluous.

He shoved that thought out of his mind and concentrated back on Granger's face, now lost in the rapture of her ecstasy. She seemed to be honestly and immensely enjoying herself. Soon, she whimpered and opened her mouth in a silent scream, arching her back as her shaking legs clamped around Thomas' head, keeping him right where he was. Granger slumped over and relaxed her body, and Thomas stood up and stretched.

"So, how was that?" he asked.

"Oh, better, much better. They'll be very pleased with you," Granger responded, smiling.

Draco was taken aback and confused. _What in the name of Merlin does this relationship entail?_

"So, we have fifteen minutes 'til breakfast is officially over," said Thomas. "We could try to grab a bite to eat, or – "

"I'd much rather show you how grateful I am for your improvement," purred Granger, dropping to her knees and working on his zipper. Draco's eyes bulged out of his sockets; anymore and they were going to drop off his face and land with a _splat_ on the floor. He fervently hoped that this didn't happen, as that would get in the way of his plan to see Granger's mouth finally put to good use.

"You're such a quick learner," Granger whispered throatily, finally freeing the man's erection from the confines of his boxers. Holy shit! Well, Draco had _heard_ that black men tended to be better endowed, but _hot damn! _This guy had to be at least eleven inches long! As Granger licked up his shaft, Draco found himself wondering if her mudblood mouth could take all of it. He couldn't bring himself to turn away, and watched in fascination as her mouth slid over his tip, sucking lightly and pulling away. She repeated this several more times, teasing him, and Draco felt his cock pulse with a maddening combination of jealousy and sympathy.

Finally, Granger took as much of him as she could into her mouth; a couple inches were left at the base, which meant she was able to take about nine inches of Thomas' massive hard cock down her throat. Draco grinned to himself; her deepthroating abilities perfectly matched the size of his prick. She began to massage his balls as she moved her lips up and down his dark length. The hollows of her cheeks became well-defined as she pulled back, which Draco knew meant that she was sucking as hard as she could. _Just like in my dream_, he thought absentmindedly. His hands brushed across the front of his trousers to relieve some of the tension until he could get away for a wank.

Bloody stupid fucking wanking. WHY WOULD NOBODY SHAG HIM? The world wasn't fair. Stupid self-righteous witches. The females of Hogwarts had randomly decided to acquire self-respect, and his cock was paying the price.

And then it was as if a light bulb clicked on above Draco's pale blond head. Granger here obviously had _no _self-respect, or at least a lot less than your average witch if she was willing to go at it with two blokes in less than twelve hours. Perhaps he would proposition her for a shag or two until his lady problems blew over.

Once the idea got in his head, it was impossible to get it out. Mental images flashed before him of Granger bent over a desk, her dripping wet pussy on display… Granger staring up at him with big brown eyes as she sucked him off… Granger, her legs around his waist as he shagged her against one of the dungeon's stone walls…

Draco groaned very quietly as he felt his cock straining to get free of his trousers. He looked back to the scene in front of him just in time to see Thomas explode into the mudblood's waiting mouth. She gradually let his spent prick fall out of her mouth after she swallowed his release. _Oh Merlin, she swallows_, thought Draco, suddenly finding the cold dungeons to be a very warm place.

He bolted to his dorm, already on the verge of being late for the Quidditch practice that he called. It took him only a minute of frantically thrusting into his own hand before he found release. He groaned, both out of obvious physical pleasure and hidden mental displeasure that Granger could cause such a reaction in him. Draco snatched the parchment off of his bed, performed a quick cleaning spell, zipped up his trousers, and took off sprinting for the Quidditch pitch.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oi, Hermione! You missed Sunday breakfast!"

"Sunday breakfast, 'Mione! The pumpkin scones –"

"Stop it, you're making my stomach growl!" Hermione giggled to Harry and Ron as they began to make their way out of the Great Hall. Ron handed her a piece of quiche that he had managed to snag for her before the tables were magically cleared precisely at 9:30 am. "Thanks!"

"Least I could do," Ron replied. "I thought you might be a bit worn out after your meeting with Dean." He grinned cheekily.

Hermione hit him in the shoulder. "Git."

Harry chuckled as they exited the great stone castle and began to make their way down a grassy slope. It was a gorgeous mid-September day; the clear blue sky was nearly cloudless and a warm breeze tickled their faces. The three of them had developed a tradition of a Sunday post-breakfast "siesta." It was one of the rare times each week that they could enjoy each other's company uninhibited by significant others, lovers, or even other friends. This was their time as best friends.

As they walked down the hill, they became aware of footsteps pounding the ground behind them, indicating that someone was full-on sprinting in their direction. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy flew past them like a bat out of hell.

"Wonder what's got Ferret-boy's knickers in a twist?" mused Ron out loud, snickering.

They observed Malfoy's retreating form as he quickly approached the Quidditch pitch. "Nice ass," Hermione thought absent-mindedly, then frowned at herself.

"Wanna go watch the Slytherins practice for a few minutes? See what they've got up their sleeves?" asked Harry excitedly.

"They'd skin us alive if they saw us spying on them!" snorted Ron. "Bloody wankers. Let's do it!"

"Just for a few minutes, Hermione, we promise," said Harry, already dragging Ron toward the field. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly; their obsession with the sport was downright adorable.

They comfortably ensconced themselves in a well-concealed spot under the bleachers with a good view of the field. _And Malfoy's ass_, thought Hermione. She cringed at herself, but realized that there was no hope of any other reaction from her body now that he had changed into his lovely Quidditch uniform. It made him look rugged, sleek, and sexy all at the same time.

Hermione was used to these thoughts, as they'd cropped up every year since the Yule Ball (what could she say, she was a sucker for men in fine dress robes). She had even permitted herself, on occasion, to imagine his pale, lithe body over hers while she was fucking someone else. And Hermione would never admit this to anyone, but her orgasms were always dramatically powerful whenever she fantasized about herself and Malfoy. She may not have been a shy person, but she _knew_ when someone would never go for her.

So, for now, she contented herself with watching him as he hovered on his broom a few feet above his team, explaining a maneuver to them in detail. She watched his hands as they gripped the wood of his broom, long fingers curled around the handle. They were pale yet had a subtle strength about them, and she had no doubt that he could make women sing with those very fingers. Her gaze traveled behind his fingers to where his legs straddled the broom, and she felt her mouth water at his subtly defined package sitting comfortably inside his trousers.

He was talking, shouting orders, but she couldn't hear him, nor did she care to. Her eyes were locked on his lips, a dusky rose, as his tongue darted out to wet them. She felt a little shot of heat ignite a fire in her center and mentally groaned.

"I don't think they're cut out for the aerial maneuvers he's trying to lay on them," whispered Harry to Ron. Aerial maneuvers? Hermione suddenly had an imagine of herself straddling Malfoy while he was straddling the broom; they were both stark naked, high up above the Forbidden Forest, and she was slowly pumping herself up and down his considerable length as his hands gripped her tightly. She whimpered.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked. "We can go, if you want –"

"No! It's fine! We should stay!" she replied, probably a little too quickly, but she didn't particularly care. She just wanted to look at Malfoy some more. She felt like she could never look at him enough. Hermione really wanted to know what it was like to run her fingers through his hair – no longer gelled, it fell adorably in his eyes and flowed naturally as he shook his head to clear his line of vision. He honestly looked like he could have been carved out of marble and placed in a church as an angel (assuming he wasn't smirking, sneering, or doing anything else besides looking innocent and adorable).

Well, fuck her if he wasn't the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.

* * *

After Harry and Ron finally got bored watching the Slytherins, the three of them made their way to their favorite tree by the lake (Hermione had figured that it would have looked strange if she wanted to spend more time than them at the Quidditch pitch, so she didn't resist) and spent several hours talking amicably or sitting in comfortable silence, sprawled on each other. The trio was incredibly close.

Harry and Ron then got up to go back to the castle to get ready for their own Quidditch practice. "Want to come with us, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"I might watch you guys practice, but I kind of like staring at the lake right now," she replied, smiling wistfully. "Later!"

"See ya!" said Ron, and the two boys made their way back up the slope to the castle.

Hermione spent about five minutes staring at the lake in silence as all manner of thoughts swirled around in her head – books, studies, the way the light reflected off the water, boys, sex, Malfoy. She felt very at peace with herself.

Her reflection was interrupted, however, when she heard footsteps coming toward her tree, crunching on the first dead leaves of the season. She assumed it was Harry or Ron and was about to chastise them for being too quick and not having a proper pre-practice meal.

"Granger!" That wasn't Harry, nor was it Ron.

Seconds later Draco Malfoy rounded the tree and sat himself down in front of her.

"Are you up for it?" he asked, smirking.

Her eyebrows shot to the top of her hairline. Perhaps she had fallen asleep while reflecting on her life, the lake…?

"What on earth, Malfoy?" she spat out.

Instead of responding like a normal human being, he lunged forward and pressed his lips into hers, cradling her face in his hands. She had expected the impact to be much greater, but he was incredibly gentle, and an incredibly good kisser. Even so…

Hermione brought it upon herself to shove him away. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? The last time we interacted, I'm pretty sure you called me a – a mudblood!"

He shrugged. "I don't think that has any relevance to what we should be doing."

"To what we SHOULD be doing? Malfoy –"

"Don't pretend you're anything less than brilliant, Granger. I saw you last night with the Weasel, and I saw you this morning with Thomas. Why should you be averse to shagging me? I'm just another bloke."

Hermione blushed at the fact that Malfoy had obviously seen her intimately, then recovered. "How DARE you? You had no right! In any case, you should at least _talk_ to me about it first –"

"Oh, shut it, Granger," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes. "I don't hold any ill will against you. You're gorgeous, even though I don't want to talk to you. And I desperately need a shag."

Hermione was affronted. "I'm not a common whore! Go get one of your slags if you need a hole to stick your prick in!"

"Two blokes in less than twelve hours, Granger? And, unfortunately, the Sex God of Slytherin has been renamed the Man Slag of Slytherin by the lovely ladies of Hogwarts. They won't go near me."

"Who said you're the Sex God of anything?" Hermione snapped back, ignoring the comment concerning her sexual schedule.

"Anyone who's ever slept with me," said Malfoy arrogantly. For good measure, he added, "You won't have to teach me anything."

Hermione's eyes darkened ever so slightly; this pleased her more than he could know. "I doubt that," she shot back cheekily, smirking at him.

He grinned. "Want to see which one of us is right?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and beginning to kiss her neck.

Hermione groaned, trying to will herself to move away but all too thoroughly enjoying the lips ravishing her neck. "M-Malfoy… we shouldn't… mmm…"

Malfoy cut off her incoherent mumblings by again pressing his mouth to hers. Their lips slid sweetly against each other, and his tongue probed for entrance to her mouth at the same time she opened her lips to allow him in. He plundered her mouth as she snaked her hands up his neck and ran them through his hair, tugging at the baby-fine strands and suckling on his lower lip. He groaned when she detached her lips from his, but his groan took on a different kind of timbre when she took his earlobe into her mouth and sucked, _hard_. She smirked to herself as he shifted, laying her down on the ground as he took an almost predatory stance over her. The position had a sort of primal feel to it that made it even more arousing, and before she realized what she was doing she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his middle flush with hers.

They both moaned at the intimate contact. Hermione felt Malfoy's length through his trousers and her skirt, and desperately wanted their clothes to be out of the way. She rubbed herself wantonly against him and he buried his head in the crook of her neck, suckling on it rather harshly. Her clit needed more contact than it was getting, so she tried to create more friction. Suddenly, Hermione realized just _what_ she was doing, _where _she was doing it, and with _whom_ she was doing it.

She jerked back and stood up, leaving Malfoy as a flushed heap, breathing hard, on the ground.

"Meet me in my room tonight. Eleven o'clock," she said breathlessly. "I'm Head Girl, so it's just me. The password is 'Hippogriff.'" And with that, she took off at a run toward the castle, scared out of her mind and aroused beyond belief, leaving a confused and horny Slytherin in her wake.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco lay on the ground, feeling as if he had just been hit with a well-cast Stunning spell. _Bloody hell._

As the Sex God of Slytherin, he was always in control of any vigorous activity he partook in with a witch. He liked knowing what to expect, liked being focused and collected even when he was giving and getting the utmost pleasure.

Well, apparently Granger didn't give two fucks about what he did or didn't like – she had just turned his whole bloody world upside down! Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she was a damn good kisser and not shy about pursuing what she wanted once she got good and turned on.

That is, until she suddenly came to her senses and raced off toward the castle, leaving Draco with the promise of more but a raging hard-on to take care of. He attempted to mentally dispel it by imagining naked trolls, piss-flavored Bertie Bott's beans, Umbridge in lingerie… None of his usual tricks worked. His cock was alert and ready for action. Since it had already gotten a fair amount of action, he reasoned that wanking wouldn't take too long. He glanced around; Weasel and Potty were just disappearing into the Quidditch Pitch, but no one else was in sight.

He smirked a smirk that would have made his father proud as he imagined the duo finding out that Granger had invited him to her room that night. His cock twitched with need; if it was a dog, it would have been whining incessantly. Draco sighed and took himself in hand, almost wincing at how sensitive he was.

As Draco pumped his hand repeatedly over his straining erection, he wondered why exactly Hermione Granger turned him on so much. It couldn't be healthy. At least now he understood why Weasley and Potter followed her around like slaves.

Slaves. An image flashed in his mind of Granger, naked, bound, and blindfolded as he fucked her roughly from behind. This thought brought him perilously close to orgasm, and just as he was about to go over, he had another image steal unbidden into his fantasies. _He _was the slave, immobilized, helpless as Granger sucked his prick and kept him just on the edge of orgasm, punishing him when he tried to move, naughty words pouring from her luscious lips…

"Oh, fuck," Draco whimpered as he came violently on his hands and trousers, back scraping against the rough bark of the tree as he arched his spine in pleasure.

This was _definitely _not healthy.

It was after dinner, 10:30 at night, and Draco was pacing his dormitory. He had half an hour to kill before his rendezvous with Granger, but he absolutely positively could NOT sit still. He felt like a virgin, nervous and sweaty and excited and unsure of what to expect. In turn, this made him feel embarrassed and unmanly. _The sex had better be damn good_, he thought to himself, his jaw set, _because the thought of it is putting me through fucking emotional trauma._

"Hey, mate," he heard Blaise say. Draco had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard Zabini come in.

"I'm meeting Granger tonight," Draco blurted out, then mentally kicked himself in the balls. He hadn't even been sure whether or not he _wanted_ to tell Blaise, and if he decided to, he was going to break the news a bit more delicately.

Zabini spat out the last vestiges of the chocolate meringue he had been munching. On Sunday nights, the Slytherin common room got the leftover desserts from dinner, and most of Slytherin was still down there. Unfortunately, one of the crumbs went down the wrong way, and he ended up doubled over beside his four-poster, hitting himself in the throat.

Draco rolled his eyes at what he imagined were theatrics and waited for the mocking to pass. Once Blaise was in no danger of being asphyxiated, the coughing wizard hazarded, "Her – Her_mione_ Granger?"

"No, the _other_ Granger who's delicious and slutty and extremely shaggable."

"What the bloody hell? You can't just spit something like that out!" Zabini's eyeballs looked like they were in danger of falling out of his sockets. "Are you fucking joking?"

"Have you _seen_ her lately?"

"Well, sure, she's got great tits… now that you mention it, a great arse too… but seriously, Draco, this is _Hermione_ we're talking about! You know… the bookworm? The one you've tormented on an almost-daily basis for the last six years?"

"Look, I didn't say I was in love with her or anything," Draco said defensively. "You know how girls are treating me right now."

"It's only been a day, mate," Blaise reminded him. "Can't you go without pussy for one day?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm thinking it's more of the principle of the thing."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No. I have no fucking idea what I'm saying. Although I do still want to shag Granger. Don't tell anyone, though."

"Will do," said Zabini, looking at him strangely. "Where is this… meeting… taking place?"

"Her room."

"In front of other girls? _Nice!_" Blaise held up his hand for a high five.

Draco chuckled. "No, no, she's Head Girl, so she gets a room all to herself. The only person she has to share her common room with is Smith."

"The Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah. Hopefully he'll be otherwise occupied. Lucky for me I'm quite gifted in Silencing charms," Draco smirked.

Zabini shook his head, laughing at his best friend. "Always the character, Draco. Sure you won't join us in the common room?"

"Yeah," Draco said, shaking his head. "I'm supposed to be at her room by eleven, and I need a good fifteen minutes to give myself a pep talk. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

"Wait, so why are you going to shag Granger again?"

Draco relayed all he had seen in the past twenty-four hours.

"Shit! I always knew there was some reason Potter and Weasley spent so much time with her. Damn," swore Blaise, shaking his head in wonder.

"She doesn't care about sleeping around, and she seems to be wonderful at what she does," agreed Draco. "Damn, indeed."

Zabini laughed. "I'll leave you to it, then. Don't come home too late," he joked, exiting the dormitory and closing the door behind him.

Before he knew it, it was five minutes to eleven, and Draco was setting out on his journey, climbing out of the portrait hole under a Disillusionment Charm on the heels of a snogging couple. He had made his cock promise not to come before Granger did (at least several times), but he couldn't help worrying that it was going to betray him and shoot his load as fast as it did that afternoon. Draco shuddered.

Sunday night and Hogwarts was still full of activity in the dark hallways. Lovers stealing moments in alcoves, Peeves roaming, teachers patrolling, Trelawney dropping acid. That last one wasn't true, but Draco suspected that something like that had to have happened at some point and caused some permanent damage.

The Head rooms were halfway between the Astronomy Tower and the Great Hall. They overlooked the lake (rather than being submerged in it like the Slytherin rooms were) and were treated to what Draco guessed must be a spectacular view.

He approached the portrait guarding the entrance. An Auror in the foreground was looking on as wizards and muggles worked together to repair the castle. Draco shuddered; just because the war was over didn't mean that his prejudices had suddenly vanished.

The Auror turned around and looked down at Draco.

"Hippogriff," Draco stated calmly.

The Auror's eyebrows rose. "No one should know the password except for the Head Girl and the Head Boy! This is unaccepta – "

"_Hippogriff_," Draco snarled. The portrait swung forward reluctantly. Damn cockblocking Auror.

He stepped inside. The room was a (fairly) neutral gold color; everything seemed rather decadent and gilded. He could get used to this.

As his eyes adjusted to the sudden light in contrast with the dark corridors he had been roaming, he noticed Granger sitting on the enormous couch in the middle of the room. She was wearing her school uniform, but something about it looked decidedly and delicious indecent. Thinking back on it, Draco would eventually decide it was the fact that at least half of the buttons on her white collared shirt were unbuttoned to reveal a black lace bra added to the fact that her school skirt had to be at least a foot shorter than the regulation length. Not that Draco was complaining.

"I see someone's been expecting me," he said, not knowing what else to say but trying to sound suave.

"I see someone's happy to see me," she shot back, nodding at the front of his black trousers. He looked down and winced to discover that he was already sporting an erection from simply the sight of her bits of exposed skin.

"Touché," he said, clearing the space between them in several long, powerful strides. He suddenly couldn't wait to get his lips on hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey all! Thanks for sticking with me thus far. This is my first fanfiction and I really appreciate all the feedback. Anyway, it's the last day of the year and I was lounging around in that familiar New Year's Eve pre-party awkward hour, all dressed up with nothing to do, and I decide to post this wee chapter. It's basically a stand-alone lemon (and will continue in the next chapter), so if you're not into that, you've been warned. Although if you're not into smut and you've read thus far, you need to re-evaluate yourself! ;D Happy reading! And happy new year (almost)!**

**Periodic Disclaimer: It's been several chapters, and I still don't own any part of Harry Potter. Surprised? You shouldn't be.**

* * *

Malfoy advanced toward Hermione with a hungry and predatory gleam in his eyes, and he looked so beautiful and possessive that her pulse quickened and her center became damp. He stopped inches from her, right when she was sure he was going to once again join their lips in a heated kiss, and ran a hand through his silky hair.

"Gods, Granger…. Why do you do this to me…" he groaned, fisting his own hair in frustration.

Hermione smirked. "Why do I do _what_ to you, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked seductively, trailing her fingers up his arm and across his shoulder. _Fuck it_, she thought, _if this is going to happen it's going to happen good and proper._

He stiffened at the contact. Hermione had heard rumors of him being the "Sex God of Slytherin" (pompous nickname, if you asked her), so she supposed going for any length of time without sex when one was used to it had to take its toll.

In a flash, his lips were on hers. Her eyes opened wide in surprise, then half-closed at the blissful feeling of their union. They started out with closed-lip kisses, exploring each other chastely yet still at a heated pace, but soon Hermione felt his tongue probing for entrance to her mouth. She opened up and was immediately rewarded with the hot muscle caressing her own. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it up greedily, trying to coax more out of her. In retaliation, she sucked on his tongue, and he groaned softly in the back of his throat.

When they came up for air, gasping, he breathed, "This is just sex, right? I need to know before we go any further."

She laughed. This man was a joke. _I feel bad for the unknown woman who would one day be tied to him_, she thought. "Hell, no. Just because you're attractive doesn't mean I like you," she said matter-of-factly.

He nodded. "Glad to find someone on the same page as me." And then he descended upon her again.

With all pretenses out of the way, Malfoy's hands began working on the buttons of Hermione's school shirt, and she arched willingly into his warm fingers. Once he had undone all of the buttons, she shrugged the crisp, white shirt off of her shoulders, leaving her in a revealing black lace bra. Not one to be outdone, she reached for his green and silver Slytherin tie and slowly undid it, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Once that was off, she grabbed the line of buttons on his school shirt and simply pulled.

With a dull popping sound, the two edges of the fabric separated as buttons were strewn across the common room floor. Hermione smirked at the surprise and outrage in Malfoy's eyes.

"You – you – "

"Oh, shut it," she said, rolling her eyes. "Nothing a quick _Reparo_ won't fix. Are you a wizard or not?"

He couldn't argue with that.

"Someone's a bit eager," he breathed, laying on the charm once again, his voice deeper.

She traced light lines with her fingernails over the hard planes of his chiseled abdominals and pectorals. Not feeling up for witty banter, she decided to shut him up by kissing him again. As they embraced, his hands found their way to the clasp of her bra by innocently smoothing along her back. Hermione wasn't fooled, though; she knew exactly what he was doing, and there was no denying he knew what he was doing. Instead of fumbling like so many guys had before (she had actually had an entire lesson with Ron about how to undo a bra clasp in the heat of the moment. It had involved her distracting him in the best way possible while he struggled and failed to get his hands to work), Malfoy popped the clasp on the bra on the first try and pulled it down her arms.

He stood back to admire Hermione, and she blushed, feeling the heat from her face spread all the way down to the tops of her breasts. His gaze darkened and he took one breast in each hand, cupping them, weighing them. It was all she could do not to thrust them further into his hands and demand that he give her nipples more attention.

He began to massage both breasts at the same time; they fit almost perfectly into his large hands, with a bit that he wasn't able to fully grab onto. She sighed in simple pleasure and let her eyes flutter closed as his lips began to work on her neck, alternately suckling on her pulse point and placing hot kisses at the junction where her shoulder met her neck.

What happened next was a deliberate and planned attack on Malfoy's part: he captured her mouth roughly with his at the same time as he tweaked both nipples, _hard_. Hermione gasped and jerked in surprise, eventually letting herself moan. "More," She practically begged, detaching her lips from his just long enough to get the word out before dragging his mouth back to hers. The twin assaults on her sensitive nipples were rendering her speechless with the pleasure and naughtiness of it all, and her clit was beginning to throb.

When it became clear as he smirked into her neck that he planned on teasing her for a while, she boldly grabbed his tight ass and pulled his middle flush with hers. He gasped, tearing his mouth away from hers and shuddering as she rubbed herself against him. "Granger…"

She snaked a hand under the waistband of his trousers and his breath caught, then quickened. She cupped him through his boxers, feeling the hard, hot length of him, and her pussy drenched itself in desire. "Mmm, so hard for me," Hermione murmured, taking control and planting kisses along his strong jawline. In a flash, she had pulled his pants and boxers (silk, in Slytherin green) down to his knees and taken him in hand. _Merlin, _she thought, _he has to be around eight or nine inches long, and he's deliciously thick too._

He buried his head in the crook of her neck as she began twisting him, pumping her hand up and down his member. "Oh, _God,_" he breathed, and it was incredibly sexy for her to hear him lose control.

With his utterance, Malfoy seemed to realize that he was in danger of either embarrassing himself or, at the very least, relinquishing control. He snarled softly and moved forward, backing them up until the backs of Hermione's thighs hit the plush, golden couch. She moaned as he attacked her neck and nipples with renewed vigor as she encouraged him with strokes of his hard cock. Eventually his hands left her nipples and made their way down to her skirt. She had magically shortened it by several inches, and he took full advantage of this by ignoring the waistband and simply reaching under it to get to her core.

Malfoy hissed when his fingers met Hermione's smooth skin. "No knickers?"

She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and released it. "Are you complaining?" Her smooth, confident act was marred by a gasp when he roughly thrust a finger inside her dripping channel.

He chuckled, a dark, rich sound that was like seductive music to her ears. "Not at all. Fuck, Granger, you're so _bloody_ tight," he added as another finger joined his first.

It felt like heaven to her, and she mewled softly, clawing at his bare shoulders as he bent his fingers inside her, stroking her G-spot. He absolutely bloody would _not _leave it alone, and she was seized by that familiar urge to simultaneously scream, "No more!" and "Never stop!"

"Fuck," she whimpered.

"Mmm, all in good time," whispered Malfoy, lowering her down onto the couch with his fingers still working their magic inside her. He added a third and she groaned. He continued to pump his fingers in and out, increasing his maddening pace and curling them when they were deep inside her. "Right now I just want to see you ride my fingers. You look so bloody good with my fingers fucking your pretty little pussy. Granger, you're so wet… I can't wait to bury myself inside you…"

Hermione moaned, long, low, and loud. It was torture, yet pure bliss… she never wanted him to stop. It felt so fucking GREAT. His thumb began to rub her clit while his fingers continued their assault on her pussy, and she screamed. "Gods, Malfoy!"

"Oh, you must be close," he murmured, that same sinful tone that had her just on the edge of orgasm.

"Don't stop!" she panted, desperate for release.

"I'll never stop, love," he agreed, moving his fingers as fast as he could. "Want to do this forever."

It was just what Hermione needed, and she felt heat bloom within her. Malfoy knew what was happening and he pushed his fingers deep inside her and kept them there, stroking her g-spot and keeping firm pressure on her clit. She screamed as she felt release spread throughout her body and arched her back, trying to get his fingers deeper. Her hips pumped frantically as she felt her pussy walls flutter. What Malfoy was doing throughout the orgasm only prolonged it. Her head was thrown back at an impossible angle, unable to deal with the pure bliss.

After the longest (and quite possibly the best) orgasm Hermione had ever experienced, she collapsed, every bone and muscle in her body reduced to jelly. Malfoy experimentally flicked her clit and she jumped, extremely sensitive. He wiggled his fingers inside her, getting the same result.

"Fuck you," she snarled tiredly, trying to pry his fingers out from where he was torturing her.

"Yes please," he replied. He had a shit-eating smirk plastered all over his gorgeous face. He removed his fingers and brought them up to his lips, sucking on one of them.

A wicked grin spread across her face as he cleaned his other two fingers, closing his eyes seductively. When he had finished his ministrations, their eyes met and she found that his had darkened. Like a predator, she advanced toward him.

It was on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi all! So terribly sorry for this long wait (almost two months? I'm ashamed of myself)! It seems like life tryed to figure out exactly what to throw at me to make me busy. Here is the much-awaited smutty scene. That's really all this chapter is. I'm thinking of continuing with a bit of plot (and obviously more sex), so tell me what you think. Reviews are loved and appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter. I tried to buy it, but I couldn't come up with $8 gazillion dollars. Also, if you're under 17, either go away or consider yourself warned.**

Draco removed his hand and slowly, ever so slowly, brought it up to his mouth and licked a finger clean of Hermione Granger's juices. He almost moaned involuntarily – she tasted so good, tangy and sweet – but instead just looked at her under lidded eyes as he methodically cleaned each finger, not wasting a drop. This had undoubtedly been the hottest sexual experience of his life so far, and he hadn't even orgasmed!

_Yet_, he thought as Granger crawled toward him with lust shining clearly in her darkened eyes. She closed the space between them and pulled his mouth to hers for a fiery kiss, tasting herself with a groan.

"Taste how good you are," he growled into her lips. "Fuck, Granger, I want you."

She smirked, but he could see that she was fighting terribly to remain in control of herself, as was he. "Not before I return the favor," she said softly, breathily.

Her hand closed around his straining erection again, and that simple touch was an immense relief to his entirely-too-solid erection. Seriously, it felt like all the blood in his entire body had pooled in his center. Lightheaded, he was overwhelmed by sensation, not being able to take everything in at once, but Granger was relentless. She twisted his shaft with one hand, keeping constant pressure on his crown with her thumb, and massaged his balls with the other. It was all at once, it was done expertly, and it was too much.

"Uhmmnn… oh, bloody hell," he swore, pinching her nipples in between his nimble fingers. She whimpered and then determinedly lowered her head – he had just enough time to pull back her (surprisingly soft!) bushy hair before her mouth closed around his prick and he lost all thought.

"FUCK!" he shouted as she sucked him, paying reverent attention to his balls while she moved her mouth up and down his hard cock. Occasionally she would moan, and the vibrations would heighten the sensations. She released him with a pop and teased the tip of his member with her tongue as her hand picked up where her mouth had left off. "Too much," he whispered weakly as she tongued his crown and pulled on his shaft.

Soon, Granger's mouth was back on him, the warm wetness enveloping his straining cock as he struggled and failed to retain coherency. This time, she took _all _of him, just like in his dream, but it was a million times better in reality. He felt the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat and slide a little further down – her smooth, silky mouth felt like a glove – her hands were back on his balls, massaging them, pulling them down and then pushing them back up. The last straw came when one of her hands reached behind his balls and began massaging the area between his balls and his ass. She pressed upward, and he felt a white hot spark of fire deep inside him that instantly had him on the verge of orgasm. He felt himself sailing toward it, sailing toward it, _almost there_ because she wouldn't bloody let up.

"Stop! Stop stop stop!" he cried out in desperation, abandoning running his fingers through her hair in favor of using them to push himself away from her. He felt his orgasm subside, but it terrified him how close he had been to losing it in such a short time. Granger was just sitting there looking all innocent, trying to right her impossible hair while smirking at him. He was determined not to let her clean up, because she would be getting very messy again in a very short time.

"Granger," he murmured, sliding toward her and latching his lips onto her neck to leave a quick love bite, "sometime you are going to do that again and bring me that way. But right now I need my hard cock to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. Can you handle that?"

"Ohhh, yes," she moaned, her head thrown back in abandon as he resumed his ravishing of her neck. "I can take it… I want your cock. I want to be _filled_."

Who knew that Granger had such a naughty mouth? Well, Draco mused as he bit down on her nipple, it wasn't much of a surprise considering that her mouth had almost brought him to orgasm within minutes. No other woman had managed that before. He was impressed, and perhaps a bit intimidated. As such, he wanted to prove to her that _he _deserved _his _Sex God status.

"Take it, baby," he said, lining up his cock with her sopping wet entrance. He flicked the tip against her clit a few times, causing her to jerk and moan involuntarily. "So fucking wet… is this all for me?"

"Oh yes, only you… oh, Malfoy, _please_ fuck me," she begged, trying to impale herself on his throbbing prick.

_I'm not one to leave a woman hanging,_ he thought arrogantly as he plunged himself into her pussy for the first time. The tightness was overwhelming, but he slid right in. She was so wet, and he so hard… his hips began to piston in and out of her, ending each thrust with a rolling motion to ensure deep penetration. From the position he was in, his cock was hitting her G-spot each time his hips surged forward.

Granger's mouth was open in a perfect O, her lips sometimes forming incoherencies. "Oh… oh, _fuck_…. mmmm, Malfoy, you fuck so good…"

He smirked to himself and bent his body to take her lips in a savage kiss. From this new angle, her throbbing pussy was squeezing his cock tightly, and it was all he could do not to come right there. Her hands smoothed down his back, now coated with a light sheen of sweat, and grasped his ass. He tensed slightly, but she simply used her new leverage to pull his hips forward, pushing him deeper inside her. Her nails dug into his flesh, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to turn him the fuck on.

He broke the kiss to take a panting breath. "God, Granger, I need to make you come soon… you feel so bloody good…"

"Please don't stop!" she wailed, and then she was coming around his cock, convulsing and squeezing him, and he wanted to come. He wanted _so badly_ to come, because she felt so good, but he wanted to make her come again first.

"Turn around," he gritted out once she had come down from her high.

"You're not going to come?" she asked, wide-eyed and exhausted.

"Not before you do again," he growled, slipping a nipple into his mouth and sucking as hard as he could.

"Oh, fucking hell!" she screamed. Her nipples and pussy, he knew, were extremely sensitive after orgasm, and he intended to fully exploit this. When she turned over, he plunged himself back into her from behind. This new angle let him go even deeper, and she somehow felt even tighter. Granger was screaming, actually screaming with pleasure now, as he took both of her nipples in his hands and pinched and pulled at them as he fucked her from behind.

"Pull my hair," she moaned desperately.

"Hmmm?" he asked, approaching his own orgasm and trying valiantly to make her come first. He switched one of his hands to her clit, rubbing in gentle circles to contrast with the rough fucking her pussy was receiving.

"Oh, _Merlin!_ PULL MY FUCKING HAIR!" she screamed. He let his other hand leave her nipple and tangle in her wild mane, pulling it back to expose her neck and tugging on it so she was almost bent double. "God, yes! Give it to me, Malfoy!"

"Granger… fuck… 'm gonna come… oh, _God!"_ he groaned, pumping into her for all he was worth. "Take my fucking cock!"

And then she was shaking, her mouth open in a silent scream as she came for the second time. Relived, Draco gave a few more deep pumps and allowed himself to come, still rubbing her clit to prolong her orgasm as much as possible. His come shot from him in powerful, hot spurts, the force of which caused his eyes to roll back into his head. His strong thighs were shaking and it was all he could do not to collapse.

Eventually, he did, rolling over onto his side to face her. Both of them were sticky and sweaty, and Draco could see his come leaking from Granger's battered pussy. Exhaustedly, he reached for his wand and murmured a contraceptive spell. Satisfied, he pulled Granger in for a hug. This surprised him, and probably her too (from the way she stiffened), but within seconds she had melted into his arms.

"I wanted to be on top," she said, looking up into his eyes and pouting.

He smirked and brushed a lock of bushy hair off of her sweaty forehead. "Next time, Granger. Next time."


End file.
